


Judgement

by Kylia (saphicwitch), saphicwitch



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-06
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:32:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphicwitch/pseuds/Kylia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphicwitch/pseuds/saphicwitch





	Judgement

**Judgement**

 

* * *

Blair Sandburg trailed behind his best friend and partner, Jim Ellison, wearily. He was too tired to go traipsing around the seedier side of Cascade at four-thirty in the morning.

"What's up?" He asked when they reached the taped off section of the alley, already covered with police personnel.

"Male Caucasian, mid to late twenties. It looks like it might have been some sort of drug overdose, though I won't be sure until I open him up." Dan Wolf began.

"Did he die here?" Blair asked quietly as Jim started going over the scene.

"I don't think so. He's too clean, although it looks like he might have had some sort of make up. There are traces of it on his arms and face."

Blair nodded. "Thanks, Dan."

"No problem."

Blair moved away from the coroner and stepped over to where Jim was crouched on the ground a few feet away from the body.

"Anything?"

Jim stood up and turned to face his partner. "There's... something." He shook his head. "I can't quite place it. Something familiar. A scent..."

"It's all right." Blair looked around the alley. There was nothing unusual about it. Nothing that distinguished it from the countless other alley's in this part of town.

Except...

This one had a corpse in it.

Ah, the joys of being a cop.

 

* * *

"Okay, this is what we have. One Mathew Henderson, aged twenty-six, poisoned by an unknown organic compound. The traces of make-up we found on his skin was made with animal blood." Jim handed the file over to Simon.

"Did you say Mathew Henderson?" Blair asked as he picked up his own file and started flipping through it, looking for the photo of the victim.

"Yeah. Why, did you know him?"

"I think so. Well, Brent does." Blair looked at the photo closely trying to see if he recognized him. He'd only seen him once, and only in passing as the young man left the apartment.

Jim stiffened slightly at the name.

"Who's Brent?" Simon asked looking expectantly from Blair to Jim.

"He's... a friend of mine." Blair answered. "A close friend."

Jim clenched his jaw tighter.

"You think he might know the victim?" Simon asked looking at his two detectives curiously. There was obviously something else going on between the lines.

"Maybe." Blair answered looking away from Jim. This was one subject they didn't see eye to eye on, and he didn't even understand what it was about Brent Vickers that Jim didn't like.

Come to think of it, Brent didn't like Jim either.

"Well, gentlemen, I suggest you go and find out." Simon stated staring at the two men.

Blair disappeared out of the door, leaving Jim standing there, still clenching his jaw.

"Jim? Is there a problem?" Simon's voice was concerned, drawing Jim's attention.

"No, sir." Jim denied, not looking at his friend.

"Jim? You want to tell me what's going on here?"

Jim exhaled wearily. "Not really, sir, no." Simon continued to stare at Jim, prompting the detective to slump into the empty chair behind him. "It's Brent." Jim said the word as if it left a foul taste in his mouth.

"Blair's... friend." Simon nodded. "You don't like him."

"No, I don't. There's something about him... he sets me on edge." Jim looked across at Simon and was only slightly surprised to see the sympathy in Simon's dark eyes. "I don't know what it is, just something about him seems... off."

"Are you sure it's not because he's Blair's... friend." Simon queried gently.

Jim straightened up. "I don't know what you mean, sir. Blair can have any friends he wants."

"Jim, this is me you're talking to, your friend. I've known both you and Blair for a long time. I see that look you get anytime he starts dating someone new."

Jim looked up sharply. Simon smiled gently. "It's the same look he gets whenever _you_ start dating someone new."

Jim looked away, not wanting to think about what it was Simon was implying.

After another minute of silence, Simon continued. "But this is different, isn't it?"

Jim nodded slowly. Simon sighed. "You really think he may have something to do with your murder victim?"

"It's a possibility." Jim stated, having mixed feelings about the idea.

"Look into it then, but Jim? If it turns out that you're right..." He trailed off, not wanting to voice what he was thinking.

"I know, sir, I know." Jim stood up and left the office.

 

* * *

"Yeah, thanks." Blair hung up the phone and turned to his partner who was looking through their ever-increasing file.

"I got something." Blair grinned when Jim looked away from the reports.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. According to Bonnie, from the university, you remember her, right? She was at that fundraiser thing we went to last year."

"Yeah, I remember her, Romeo, get on with it." Jim snapped, losing interest already.

Blair rolled his eyes, used to his partner's moods. "She said that Mathew Henderson was into some pretty weird stuff. There's some new... group. She thinks he was involved. Occult."

Jim rubbed his jaw as he thought about that. "You think this was a ritual that went wrong? That fits. It would explain the weird organic compounds, and the face paint."

Blair nodded. "Yeah, I think I found a way in."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Bonnie said that she thinks they meet over in the old Sellers building downtown. Ever since the business closed, it's been pretty much empty."

"So you're thinking we should stake it out?"

"No, I'm thinking we should go down there and see if we can find anything. The building technically belongs to the city now, so we shouldn't need a warrant."

"Okay." Jim closed the file folder and stood up. "Let's go."

Blair followed him out of the bullpen and into the elevator. The two rode down in complete silence. When they reached the truck, Jim stopped and looked over the hood at his partner. "Chief?"

"Yeah, Jim?" Blair asked meeting the older man's eyes.

"Did you want to talk to Brent? About Henderson?"

Blair looked away quickly. "No, not yet." He climbed into the truck before anything else could be asked.

Jim frowned. He could hear Blair's accelerated heartbeat loud in his ears, and almost _feel_ the tension radiating off of him. He didn't understand why that question would upset him. The mere mention of Brent's name was enough to put Jim in a foul mood, but it didn't usually have the same effect on Blair.

Although, to be honest, he hadn't noticed any sort of effect Brent had on Blair. They were friends, close friends. Lovers, to be technical, though Jim wasn't really sure how far things had gotten. Any time Blair came home, he didn't smell like sex, or more precisely he didn't smell like sex with another man. Which meant either Blair _hadn't_ had sex with him, or he'd showered before coming home.

But he didn't seem overly excited by the prospect of going out with him on the nights they went out. Nor did he seem really upset the few times he'd had to cancel a date due to work. So it couldn't be too serious, could it?

However, none of that explained why Blair was suddenly tense. Jim covertly watched his partner as he drove and hoped that if something _was_ wrong, Blair would talk to him about it.

 

* * *

"Is anyone in there? Blair asked from their spot, parked in the alley behind the Sellers building.

"Yeah. Three men. They're talking about some meeting tonight. One of them sounds familiar." Jim zeroed in on the conversation. "He's saying that some guy named Thompson is bringing some new people. And that someone named Brad is coming tonight."

"Who's he?" Blair whispered, as if the people they were eavesdropping on them could hear them, too.

"I don't know, but the other guys seem pretty spooked by his arrival. Now this other guy is telling everyone they better be on their best behavior tonight." He turned to Blair. "They're coming out."

Blair turned and looked out of his window with the binoculars. From their position, they couldn't be seen unless someone was looking for them, but luckily they could see pretty well.

"They're leaving. I only see two of them though." Blair continued looking. "Here comes the third guy." He sucked in a deep breath. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jim turned and narrowed his eyesight onto the three men. The first two were climbing into a car across the street, and the third was approaching another car.

The third guy was Brent. Blair's Brent.

"Blair?" Jim asked quietly.

"Let's go. They're gone now, we should get a look inside." Blair climbed out of the truck, eager to get on with it, and to _not_ have the discussion Jim was no doubt more than willing to have.

Jim sighed and climbed out of the driver's side, following his partner into the building.

 

* * *

"I found something." Jim called from behind several boxes towards the back of the ground floor of the Sellers building.

Blair walked across the floor, looking for anything that might be of use to them.

"There's some blood on the floor here. And some more of that paint on this wall."

"I'll call forensics." Blair took out his phone.

"Just call that new girl, what's her name?"

"Leslie." Blair offered effortlessly as he disconnected his original call and dialed a new number.

Jim scowled. Of course Blair would know her name. He knew _all_ their names.

Jim started scanning the rest of the room as Blair talked quietly to the new forensics specialist. They'd had a lot trouble finding someone to take over after Cassie left town. There seemed to be a revolving door in the Forensics department. This new girl, Leslie something-or-other, had arrived a few weeks ago, transferred from Seattle. She seemed to be doing a good job, and like the entire female and male population of Cascade had a soft spot for his partner.

"She's on her way, Jim. She said she'd come alone." He grinned at Jim. "So you want to stake it out then?"

Jim was looking around the room, scanning every millimeter of space. His eyes lit on a cabinet set against the far wall. It looked out of place in the room, like it had recently been put in and not part of the rest of the decor.

The door of the cabinet opened easily and he found it full of long robes, in a dark red color. He picked one up and turned to face Blair. "You think we can blend into the crowd?"

Blair made his way across the room. "Sounds like a plan."

Jim tilted his head to the side, in his 'listening' pose. Blair turned towards the door to see Leslie McManners walk in, her forsenics kit in her hand.

"What do we got, boys?" She grinned at them, focusing on Jim.

 

* * *

Six hours later found the partners sitting in Jim's truck across from the Sellers building, waiting to see if anyone showed up. The sun was just going down, and they were hoping that they could catch these people, and call it a day.

Simon had authorized three more teams to watch the building while Jim and Blair attempted to get enough information from the inside to bust them for murder and whatever else they might be doing.

"You want to talk about it?" Jim asked quietly as Blair peered into the binoculars.

"There's nothing to talk about." Blair answered absently.

"Chief," Jim began, hating this strained silence that had seemed to envelope them ever since Blair had seen Brent leaving the building earlier that afternoon.

"Jim, drop it." Blair's voice was hard. "I don't want to talk about, not now."

"But later?" Jim asked softly, reaching out to touch Blair's arm.

"Maybe." Blair whispered, the sound barely audible.

Jim kept silent after that and Blair wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not. He was so irritated, and he wasn't sure if it was because it looked like his... boyfriend, for want of a better word, was involved in this group, and by extension the murder they were investigating, or if it was something else altogether.

They had spent a full ninety minutes in the building after Leslie had arrived, and Blair couldn't help but notice how attentive to Jim she was. She did her job, and did it well, but she also paid an unnecessary amount of attention to the older cop. Blair had never noticed that before, but maybe he hadn't been paying attention. Maybe he should have been.

His relationship with Jim was so complex, and had been through so much, he had decided a long time ago that getting involved with him, sexually or romantically, wasn't really something that it could take.

He'd made that decision after they'd only been together for a short while. As their lives had been unraveled, first by Jim's unwelcome glimpse at Blair's dissertation, and then by the appearance of another sentinel, and finally by the exposure caused by his mother's meddling. Blair had believed that he'd made the right decision.

That getting involved with Jim was a bad idea.

That didn't stop him from wanting him, or from falling in love with him, or from being hurt every time Jim got involved with another Mata Hari in training.

Now, here was Jim, being concerned and caring when it was _Blair_ who seemed to be dating the felon. Here was Jim, being flirted with by the nice, new, pretty forensics specialist. Here was Jim, oblivious to it all, but still being _Jim_. It was enough to drive a man to insanity.

Assuming of course that the man in question wasn't already insane.

 

* * *

In the end, the bust went down fairly easily. Jim and Blair managed to sneak into the building, and blend into the group of people Michael Thompson had brought with him.

It took nearly two hours for them to have enough information to safely arrest the group, but once they did, they called in their backup and everything happened rather quickly.

A total of twenty one people were arrested in the Sellers building, none of which seemed overly cautious about any statements they made, with the exception of Brad Waters, who as far as Jim and Blair could tell was a man of some importance.

He, however, had concrete proof that he had just arrived in Washington, therefore, could not be held accountable for Mathew Henderson's death. Jim had narrowed it down to three men who were present the night Henderson died.

Brent Vickers was one of those three men.

Jim and Blair watched through the two-way mirror as Brent was interrogated. It was quickly becoming apparent that although he wasn't actively responsible for the death of Mathew Henderson, he did have a hand in moving the body, and possibly in other crimes not related to this one.

Apparently, they had been performing a ritual that was supposed to infuse Henderson with the spirit of Baba-Yaga, who, according to what they could discover, was a Slavic Goddess of evil, dark magic and death.

The ritual required Henderson to ingest a combination of fairly rare and dangerous herbs. The paint he wore on his face and arms was comprised of some of those same herbs, and human blood.

Apparently, two of the herbs were quite lethal when used in combination. Henderson died forty minutes after drinking the fatal brew. It was Brent Vickers, with the help of two others that moved Henderson's body, and tried to remove any evidence.

Once they were arrested, they seemed inclined to tell the truth, thankfully. Jim wasn't entirely certain how well Blair would hold up under a prolonged interrogation.

Henri Brown was doing the actual questioning, but when Brown stepped outside to speak with Simon in a room down the hall, Blair couldn't resist the temptation. He excused himself and stepped into the interrogation room. He knew that Jim would be listening in, but it didn't matter.

Blair and Brent stared at each other, levelly, Blair not recognizing the man in front of him.

"You didn't tell me about this." Blair said quietly.

"You never asked." Brent answered pointedly. "Did you really want to know?"

"Yes!" Blair spit out "Yes, I'd like to know if the guy I'm dating is going around _sacrificing_ people in the name of a malevolent Goddess!"

Brent's eyes flashed. "Cut the crap, Blair. You didn't want to know. And do you know why? Because you didn't care. Ellison was all you cared about, from way before you and I ever met. I was just convenient, a distraction. Something to take your mind off of what you couldn't have, and all the beautiful women who had it instead."

Blair swallowed, not sure how to counter that. "And what was I to you?"

Brent shrugged. "A warm body, nothing more, nothing less. Someone to share my bed. You were whatever I wanted you to be." He looked up at Blair, daring him to say something, anything. "And you still are. You always will be."

Blair blinked, the anger in him rising. "I never shared your bed. I never belonged to you, and I never will. You have no say over who or what I am."

"In time," Brent spoke quietly, his voice laced with a certainty that caused Blair to shiver involuntarily. "You will be mine, and Ellison will be nothing but a bad memory, just wait."

Before Blair could respond, Brown came back into the room, carrying a thick file. Blair left the room, not wanting to be in the same room while Brent was questioned further about a stack of unsolved crimes he may have had a hand in.

He joined Jim and they watched the interrogation from behind a two-way mirror. Every second that passed increased Blair's tension. He was wound tighter than Jim ever remembered seeing him and he wasn't exactly sure what it was that was upsetting him the most.

Was it the fact that he was dating a man that could be involved in this kind of thing? Was it the fact that he _didn't_ know what Vickers was capable of? Was because he didn't know Vicker's as well as he thought he did, or was it something else altogether?

He kept replaying the conversation he had overheard between Vickers and Sandburg, trying to make sense of it.

Jim turned to face his partner, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to..." He trailed off. "We can go. Brown can handle it."

"No. I know Henri can handle it but I do need to be here." Blair's eyes bore through the glass, staring at the man he thought he knew. "I need to know."

"Know what?" Jim asked quietly.

Blair opened his mouth as if to speak and then shook his head. "I don't know. How it happened, why it happened... how it is that I never _knew_ about this. Am I that bad a judge of character? How could I _not_ know?" The last was almost whispered.

"Chief, it's not your fault."

Blair didn't say anything, didn't so much as move. Jim turned him away from the glass so that he was forced to look into his eyes.

"It's. Not. Your. Fault." He repeated. "He isn't a serial killer, a rapist, or a cold-blooded psychopath." Jim gripped Blair's chin gently, but firmly. "He didn't murder that boy."

Blair looked down. "No, but he didn't try and help him, either. Instead, he dumped the body in a dirty alley waiting for some homeless person to stumble on him. It may not have been premeditated, but it might as well have been." He paused, "And God, if he really is involved in all those other crimes, that's worse, so much worse."

Blair pulled away, suddenly needing to get away, get some air. "I'm gonna take a walk." He disappeared out of the room, leaving Jim alone.

Jim watched for a few more minutes as Brown finished questioning him. When Brown left to type up the statement, Jim took the opportunity to have a few words of his own.

 

* * *

Jim strolled into the room and leaned against one wall and just... stared. Brent Vickers was sitting at the small table in the interrogation room, his back to Jim.

"Ellison. I wondered when you would show up." Vickers' tone of voice was completely devoid of any emotion and Jim wondered how he couldn't have known just how _wrong_ this guy was. Was his mind just too clouded with jealously to think straight?

"Here I am." Jim walked around to the front of the table so that he was facing Vickers. He leaned over the top of the table, his face coming close to the other man's. "What is it you want?"

Vickers' looked up, his gray eyes looking into Jim's. "Whatever do you mean? I'm here at your mercy, aren't I?" He paused a second before continuing. "That was you tonight wasn't it? You and Blair who had us arrested? You who sat behind that mirror..." He waved one hand towards the two-way mirror, "and listened to me confess all my crimes to your... associate. You who no doubt sat in that little room and eavesdropped on Blair when he came to talk to me. You who think you have won." He shifted a little and moved his gaze around the room before returning to stare at Jim. "You haven't." He looked away and instead looked at the scratched surface of the table. "You won't get what you want."

Jim moved away from the table and leaned back against the mirror. "What is it you think I want?"

"Blair." Brent looked up momentarily before returning to inspecting the table. "You want him, you've _always_ wanted him. I had him though, and now you'll never have him."

Jim raised an eyebrow calmly. Inside, he was seething. This guy was a piece of work. Not what he was expecting him to be. He was much, much worse. Every second he spent with him, was a second more that he knew unequivocally that he would do what ever was necessary to keep this guy away from his friend.

Jim moved slowly, steadily back to the table. "You never had Blair. You never will." Knowing that regardless of what Blair and this...man had shared, if they had in fact shared anything, Brent Vickers had never had Blair. Not where it counted, inside.

Jim shook off his thoughts and stared steadily at Vickers. "What, you think your threats scare me? That _you_ scare me?" Jim snorted and moved closer. This time when he leaned down, his face was just inches from Vickers. "I'm only going to say this once." He paused meaningfully before going on. "You so much as _think_ about my partner, on any level, and you won't live long enough to know who's won and who hasn't." He moved even closer. "I promise you nothing will stop me from finding new and creative ways of disposing of your body... piece by piece." He moved back a fraction. "Are we clear?"

Vickers moved his eyes up until they locked onto Jim's. "We're clear." His voice was steady, and his eyes betrayed nothing, but Jim could almost _feel_ the reaction to his words. Vickers heart sped up frantically and the tang of fear scented the air.

Jim nodded once, sharply before moving away towards the door.

"He still won't be yours." Brent spoke, his voice still steady, although not quite as loud.

Jim stopped at the door for a second before opening it and stepping through. Once he was on the other side he stopped and dialed up his hearing, knowing that Vickers had something else to say, even if he thought he was talking to himself.

So, Jim wasn't surprised when he heard him say, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Luckily, you don't." Jim muttered angrily, using all of the strength he possessed to reign in his anger, to stop himself from going back in there and doing to Brent Vickers what he had alluded to.

Jim walked stiffly away from the interrogation room, passing Brown on his way back with the statement for Vickers to sign. He had thoughts of ways he could successfully, and blamelessly put an end to the perceived threat on Blair's life. A threat, Jim had no doubt that would prove to be dangerous, if not deadly, if he didn't stop it. Soon.

However, at the moment, Brent Vickers was safely behind bars, whereas Blair was out, wandering around, stressed over everything that had happened today, doubting his judgement, and feeling things that Jim couldn't even speculate on.

He walked into Major Crimes and made his way directly to Simon's office. Simon was just hanging up the phone when Jim closed the door behind him.

"Brown says that this Vickers guy admitted to being present when Henderson died, and that he moved the body."

"Yeah." Jim acknowledged stiffly, not sure if he should mention his little 'chat' or not.

"The D.A. thinks that he can make a charge of manslaughter stick. They weren't ignorant to what would happen when they mixed those herbs together. Plus, the fact that he moved the body. And we have enough to hold him while we investigate his possible involvement in these other unsolved cases."

Jim nodded. "Good."

Simon watched his best detective for a minute. "Jim, there's something else."

Jim noted the tone in his friend's voice and sat down in the chair opposite Simon's desk, knowing whatever it was Simon had to say, it wouldn't be good.

"I called in some favors with the justice department when you mentioned Blair knew this Vickers guy." He leveled his gaze across the desk as he handed over a file folder.

"This is the report that was just sent over."

Jim opened the folder and started flipping though, his eyes scanning over all the important details. "Are you sure about this?" Jim asked quietly.

"Yeah. I had the prints double-checked when you guys brought him in. It's the same guy. Jim, we don't have enough evidence to get him on more than manslaughter and maybe a few lesser charges, unless we can find more evidence for these unsolveds, but I really don't like the idea of him getting out of jail any time soon."

Jim's fingers tightened as he read through one particularly grisly report. "Simon..."

"Yeah, I saw it. Three of the five men that are known to have been involved with Vickers were brutally murdered. He was suspected, but they could never find any concrete evidence.

Jim stood up and tossed the file down on Simon's desk. "I've got to go." He turned and left the office, rushing out of the bullpen and down to the parking garage.

Once there, he stopped and dialed his senses up, searching for that one familiar heartbeat. After several seconds, he knew Blair wasn't anywhere nearby, and climbed into his truck, rolling down his window and pulled out into the street, driving the route Blair would have traveled on foot.

 

* * *

Brent Vickers listened carefully to all the sounds around him. It was late, and most of the other prisoners were either asleep, or pretending to be. The guards didn't pay any attention to them, so he wasn't too concerned about exposure.

What did concern him was Detective James Ellison.

He had underestimated him. Maybe he had underestimated them both. He had known almost from the beginning that Ellison always came first in Sandburg's life, and for the most part, that was a good thing. He had his own activities he wasn't eager to share with Blair.

However, he had hoped, counted on, the fact that eventually, Blair would be drawn to him, would trust him, feel comfortable with him. If he didn't, there was no point to their relationship.

Brent had only gotten involved with Blair in the hopes that he could keep an eye on what the police did or didn't know, while he and Michael Thompson conducted their business in Cascade.

They still had three more weeks before they were finished. He wasn't worried about his current incarceration, Thompson would take care of that, but if he didn't get rid of Ellison, Blair was of no use to him.

Brent looked around once more, making sure that the guards weren't nearby and checking to see if the prisoner two cells over was still asleep. He was.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and began chanting. The language was old; a dialect no longer used except by the worthy. The words would mean nothing to someone not educated in the ways of the ancient Goddess.

Just as he was reaching the peak of the chant, a loud growl erupted from somewhere behind him. Vickers started and broke his concentration. He looked around the room.

Almost as if in some strange dream, two figures appeared, barely visible in the darkness of the cell, except for two sets of glowing eyes. The growling was becoming louder as the two sets of eyes came closer.

He began chanting again, this time calling for a manifestation of the power he was attempting to channel, something to defend him against the creatures approaching him.

The two sets of eyes diverged, one beginning to circle him, while the other seemed to be standing guard. It was still dark in the cell, making it impossible to see what it was he was facing.

It looked like two animals, different in size in shape, and not completely solid.

Vickers blanked his mind of speculation as he continued the chant, his voice growing in volume and strength. A wind started swirling in the small cell, a dark gray smoke enveloping everything in the room, blinding Vickers.

The temporary blindness caused the prisoner to focus on the sounds surrounding him. He could hear a fierce growling to his left and just as he turned, in a vain attempt to see what was happening, he felt _something_ pass through him.

Then he was pushed over, landing with a thump on his back. His eyes widened, hoping to see through the thick smoke. A decidedly feline snarl sounded just before something sharp and moist clamped down on his chest.

He felt something bite or tear into him, but no amount of resisting or shoving was having any effect. It was as if his attackers weren't comprised of matter, but existed purely in the spirit plane.

Except that they _felt_ real. He could feel his bones being crushed under the snarling, growling weight of two beings whom couldn't possibly exist, and yet, did.

The smoke cleared, leaving him feeling empty and bereft for the first time since finding Baba-Yaga. Brent Vickers let out a single scream, followed by the sound of soft snarling, and then silence.

His body, or what was left of it, slumped to the ground, silently.

 

* * *

Blair leaned back into the trunk of the tree. The rain had let up about an hour ago, but he hadn't really noticed. He sat in an empty section of the park, cold, wet, and not noticing either.

His mind was going around in circles, trying to figure out what was worse. The fact that he had been such a poor judge of character or the fact that Jim knew what a poor judge of character he was.

Then there was the reasoning behind his lack of good judgement. It wasn't as if he had been overly attached to Brent Vickers. It wasn't even that he was in shock about what Brent was obviously involved in.

He had only known him for six weeks. He met Brent at a coffee shop across the street from a bookstore where Blair had gone to interview a witness. Jim had had court that day, so he was on his own.

How different would things have been if Jim had been with him that day? Would he still have met Brent? Would he still be in this situation?

There was no doubt that regardless of what Blair had had, or thought he had, with Brent Vickers, Mathew Henderson would still be dead, and he and Jim would still have been investigating the death.

However, it would have been just another case. It wouldn't have meant anything on a personal level. Not like now.

Even considering what they had found out during Brown's interrogation, Blair couldn't bring himself to be truly surprised. There had always been something 'off' about Brent. There had always been a feeling that he didn't know everything.

Blair hadn't given it much thought because, after all, a big chunk of his life was wrapped around Jim Ellison, so who was he to question someone else?

Now it all made sense though. The cancelled dates, the vague descriptions of what it was Brent did on those nights, the instant dislike Jim and Brent seemed to have for each other, and the lack of interest, or curiosity about what exactly it was that kept Blair living with Jim.

It seemed Brent had secrets of his own.

Not that it mattered now. It was all over. It had ended the moment Blair had seen Brent leaving that building.

No. It had ended before that. In all honesty, it had ended before it ever began.

Blair's life was too full of Jim to make room for anyone, or anything, else. And that was the way he liked it.

The rain began again, pounding hard, driving Blair's thoughts away. He could feel the water sluicing through the branches of the trees, soaking him even further.

He shivered and thought about going home, but changed his mind, knowing that Jim would be there waiting for him. What would he say? What was there to say?

Jim didn't understand the reasons behind Blair's 'relationship' with their latest collar. How could he explain it to his best friend? How could he explain it to himself?

"Hey." The voice seemed to come out of nowhere and Blair had to squint to see through the darkness to find its owner.

"Jim?"

"Expecting someone else?" Jim sat down next to him, on the cold, muddy ground.

"No, not really." Blair turned to face him, and saw how the water had soaked through Jim's clothes and hair, indicating he had been walking around in the rain for awhile. "You're wet."

"Nothing gets past you." Jim grinned slightly. "Come on, Chief, let's go home."

Blair nodded and started to get up. After all, there was nothing keep him away now.

 

* * *

They returned home in silence. Blair wasn't ready to talk yet, and Jim knew that, so he let him be.

After they were both dried off and changed into dry, comfortable sweats, they migrated to the couch. It was dark in the loft; the moonlight filtering through the balcony doors the only light.

"You want to talk about it?" Jim asked quietly.

"Not really."

They sat in silence for several minutes before Jim spoke again. "Was it serious?"

Blair sighed and shook his head. "Nah." He paused and took a deep breath. "He was a... distraction. He was nice, or so I thought. He didn't ask too many questions and didn't care that he never went first, and never would."

Jim turned his head and looked at Blair. He was leaning back against the couch, his head lying across the top, staring up at the ceiling. Despite the casual appearance, Jim could feel the tension radiating from the younger man. His whole body was tight, as if at any moment he would need to bolt and was storing up energy.

"He didn't ask too many questions?" Jim repeated Blair's statement. "Questions about what?"

Blair jumped off the couch and began pacing around the living room.

"About you."

"Me?" Jim looked up at his roommate.

"Yes, you." Blair confirmed, then sighed at the confusion he saw in Jim's eyes.

"Jim, man, people see you and me, working together, living together... they think we're sleeping together. They don't get why we'd still be together otherwise. They don't get why we'd _ever_ have shared space." He sighed and flopped back onto the couch, all his energy suddenly drained.

"And when they realize we _aren't_ sleeping together, that's when the questions start. Why are we still living together? Why aren't we sleeping together?" Blair trailed off, not sure how many other questions he should really vocalize.

"Why aren't we sleeping together?" Jim repeated the question.

"Yeah." Blair nodded a bit sadly. "That's usually the point where everything goes to hell and I move on."

Jim shook his head and turned to stare at his best friend, an odd light in his pale eyes. "No, Chief." At Blair's confusion, he continued, "I said, 'why aren't we sleeping together?'

Blair opened his mouth as if to answer but couldn't seem to form a coherent response. At Blair's continued silence, Jim continued, "And the reason he was never first? Would never be first? Is that because of me, too?"

Blair closed his mouth and nodded silently.

Jim smiled and moved closer. "I guess we're stuck together then."

Blair continued to stare at his partner, unsure exactly where this was going.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Jim asked quietly, seriously.

"Me?" Blair scowled, getting his bearings back. "Why didn't you? Hell, Jim, It's not like you didn't know I dated guys."

"I didn't think you were interested in me. You never said anything."

"What was I supposed to say? 'Excuse me, pass the newspaper, and by the way, I want to fuck you blind?' Yeah, that would have worked." Blair sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Besides, I figured you knew how I felt and just didn't want that sort of complication."

"How could I know?" Jim asked pointedly.

"How could you _not_ know?" Blair countered. "You're a Sentinel. How could you miss it?" Blair took a deep breath and pinned Jim with his eyes. "After everything that happened last year, with Naomi, and the Diss, I figured you knew I loved you and didn't want or need that from me."

Blair quit speaking and silence descended once more. After what seemed like a lifetime, Blair stood and moved towards his bedroom. Jim grabbed his arm.

"Don't go."

Blair froze and looked down at Jim.

"You love me?" Jim asked. Blair rolled his eyes and Jim smiled. "That works out." He pulled Blair closer to him.

"It does?" Blair said softly as he turned around to face Jim.

Jim tugged him even closer, causing Blair to tumble into his lap. "Yeah, Chief." Jim brought his lips to Blair's, his tongue searching out it's mate. Blair's lips opened under his, allowing him entrance. Jim mapped the inside of Blair's mouth before pulling away. "I love you, too."

Blair raised his eyebrows. "No kidding? Imagine that." He grinned and stole another kiss before leaning his head into the crook of Jim's neck.

Jim listened to Blair's heavy breathing and felt the breath expel on his sensitive skin.

"This thing really bothers you."

It was a statement, not a question and Blair just nodded against his skin.

"What is it that bothers you so much? The fact that Brent could be capable of murder, or worse, or the fact that you didn't know?"

Blair pulled away and looked at Jim. His lips were curved into a slight smile but his eyes were shadowed.

"I spent the better part of my life observing people, negotiating troubled waters, figuring out who people were and what they wanted. There was always something I could give them, in return for whatever it was they gave me. I always knew where we stood. Who, or what, I was dealing with. I always thought I was a pretty good judge of people, but apparently not."

Jim squeezed Blair in his arms. "I don't know, you had me pegged from the beginning."

"You think?" Blair asked seriously.

"Yeah." Jim nodded. "The first time we met, you knew I wanted answers and you told me where I could find them. And that day in your office, you knew when to cut the crap and tell me what I needed to hear. Not what I _wanted_ to hear, but what I _needed_ to. You saved my life that day, Blair, and you've done it a thousand times since then." Jim paused, looking solemnly into Blair's eyes. "And I don't mean with that garbage truck."

Blair bent down and placed a single, tender kiss on Jim's temple. "I know."

Jim wrapped his arms around Blair, his voice rough with emotion when he spoke. "I was wrong that day at the station, too, just after Alex came when I said I didn't need you to tell me who I was. I don't need you to tell me who I am, but I do need you to help _make_ me who I am. I'm a better person, a better Sentinel, because of you."

Blair didn't know what to say to that. He wanted to make a flip remark, something to draw the attention away from himself, but one look at the serious expression in Jim's face and feeling the fine tremors going through the larger man's body and he knew that Jim meant it, with everything he was.

He said the only thing he could.

"I love you."

It seemed to be the right thing because then Jim broke out into a smile and fused his lips to Blair's.

The time for talking was done, for now, and the two men began to devour each other. Hands, lips, tongues and other body parts came into play during this first frantic coupling.

Their clothes were quickly stripped away, leaving them free to really feel one another.

Neither man was in much of a position to make it last, both having been emotionally drained by the night's discussion and the emotions it evoked.

Afterwards, Blair collapsed on top of Jim, his naked sweaty body breathing heavily in time with Jim's. Once he'd gathered the brain power, and energy required to move, Jim shifted over slightly and looked at his partner.

"This isn't quite how I imagined it." He stated mater-of-factly.

"Oh?" Blair raised an eyebrow. "What did you imagine? That I'd profess my undying love, which in case you're wondering, I do feel," He grinned slightly. "And then we'd make love slowly, leisurely, in the comfort of your bed, followed by a fitful sleep where we wake up to clean sheets?"

Jim snorted. "Something like that."

Blair chuckled as he stood up and stretched, his back cracking and joints popping. "This isn't some weepy romance novel. This is real life."

Jim slapped Blair's bare ass. "Wouldn't have it any other way." He stood up himself. "Why don't you shower while I fix something to eat."

Jim watched his partner disappear into the bathroom and marveled at the strange twists his life seemed to take whenever Sandburg was around.

After taking a new washcloth out of the cupboard and wetting it down with warm water, he cleaned himself up enough to be comfortable until he could take a shower himself, and pulled his sweats back on.

Jim was putting the finishing touches on the sandwiches he made when he heard the water in the shower shut off, followed by the sound of Blair drying himself off with a large towel.

His eavesdropping was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Jim heard Blair groan from behind the bathroom door and shared in his partner's dismay.

"Ellison." He answered on the second ring.

"Jim" Simon's voice sounded through the line.

"Yeah." Jim answered warily. "What's wrong?"

"There was an... incident." Simon began, confusion sounding clear in his voice.

"An incident?" Jim repeated. "What kind of incident?"

"Your suspect... Brent Vickers?"

"Yeah? What about him?" Jim took the phone into the living room and sat down, not liking the sound of this.

"He's dead."

"What?" Jim snapped. "How? When?"

"We're not sure. A couple of hours. It looks like some sort of animal attack."

"Animal attack?" Jim repeated, sure he must have heard wrong. "In lock up?"

Simon sighed. "I can't explain it any more than you can. According to the log, he didn't have any visitors. He didn't even make any phone calls. But when the guard went to check on him, he found him dead. His body's all scratched up, torn up really, covered in what looks like claw and teeth marks."

"Autopsy?"

"Dan Wolfe said he'd put a rush on it, but we won't know anything until tomorrow at the earliest. I just thought that Blair might want to know."

"Yeah, thanks, Simon. I'll tell him." He hung up the phone, in a daze, and turned to face Blair, who was now standing just outside of his bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"What's up?" Blair asked in concern when he saw the look on Jim's face.

"Vickers is dead."

Blair dropped the brush he had in his hands. "What? How?"

"Simon said it looks like some sort of animal attack, like maybe he was mauled or something."

Blair walked over to the couch and sat down next to Jim. "Well, Shit."

"Yeah, that was my reaction, too." He paused. "You don't think..." Jim couldn't even voice the insane idea that suddenly popped into his head.

Blair shook his head slightly in bewilderment. "I don't know. I'm not sure I _want_ to know."

They sat in silence for a minute before Blair stood up again and moved into his room to get dressed. "You make something to eat?" He called.

"Yeah. Sandwiches."

"Good." Blair came out of his room, wearing a robe. "You're gonna need the energy."

Jim stared at his lover for a second, trying to gauge his mood. He knew that things weren't as simple as Blair wanted to believe, but he also knew that they would deal with it in the same way they always did, together.

"Looking forward to it." Jim grinned and moved back into the kitchen to finish with dinner.

He had a feeling he would need the extra energy.

The End


End file.
